Stillicide
by Miss Pretty Socks
Summary: Pax's family is torn apart, bit by bit. After being abandoned in Winterfell, she struggles to survive and endeavours to reunite with her sister whom she believes was sold to a brothel in King's Landing.  RobbXOC highly likely
1. Chapter 1

I saw a man die when I was seven years old.

I remember the day: Freezing, harsh sunlight, and white. White everywhere; in the air, on the ground, the walls, the sky. Everything was white.

I was at The Wall with my step-father and brother, Jack. He was to join the Night's Watch, against his wishes of course, but there was nothing to be done. My mother had passed a fortnight ago and the man who was my step-father was getting rid of us leftover children one by one. A week ago he sold the house, our home, and all of my father's lands. They should've been Jack's. And now Jack was about to be gone too.

My step-father spoke to an aging man dressed in black furs with a sadistic looking smile on his face. Jack stood beside them with his hands folded—head down. My brother, aged nearly sixteen, would grow to be strong one day, I could see that. I always looked up to him. He carried me on his shoulders, taught me how to turn soil and plant the food we ate, showed me how to skip rocks; he even taught me how to read. He was brilliant, kind, and would one day grow strong and proficient with a sword, though he was never one to be disobedient. Though a virtue in the eyes of some I saw this as Jack's only flaw, so naturally I compensated for his lack of disobedience with an overabundance of my own. That's why I was here, standing at The Wall amongst the men of the Night's Watch, and not sitting silently with my two elder sisters at the wagon struggling to find warmth.

It was some time ago, but I remember vividly the stark contrast of the men's attire and my surroundings. I recall with clarity the clang of swords as they practiced and perfected their form and attacks. And then I remember a crow, it uttered a guttural noise that made me turn my head just in time to see.

He had not jumped. He had not fallen. I saw him turn his back, extend his arms, and fall back into the embrace of the abyss. Gravity carried him downward and through the light, drifting snow he paved a path down, down, down….

The unyielding ground took him within her arms not twenty meters away. Several men yelped in shock, a horse nearby whinnied in shock, and several of the trainees called out their friend and brother's name in anguish and confusion, "Deven!"

Jack looked straight at me, I could tell, yet my eyes were affixed to the gruesome scene I had witnessed from its graceful beginning to its grisly end. I was moved to shift closer and my body listened. I shuffled towards the fallen boy and saw the result of his move: A shoulder bone had lodged its self into his jugular, completely severing his throat; limbs were indistinguishable amongst the tattered flesh, exposed muscle, and scattered organs; his skull was nothing more than a lump of brain matter bloodied over and littered with bits of scalp, hair, and bone particles. The last thing I saw before I was hoisted up by the waist by a strong arm and my sight was obstructed by the opacity of a cold hand was a whole eyeball lolling out from its socket, its optic nerve a thin string just barely keeping it from detaching.

"Pax! No!" Shouts of confusion and the scrambling of dozens of bodies. I was blind to the rest of the scene. I was shifted from one shoulder to another's and I caught the briefest of glances at the shoes of my brother and his cold hand as it lightly held the tip of my chin.

"Take care my dear sister, I will see you again." Jack's voice was a comfort, but his words were not.

My wild hair quickly obstructed my view and before I knew it I was out of the chaos and was thusly tossed onto the back of the wagon by my worthless step-father. He walked around, took the reins, and just like that we were on our way. Jack was gone now, from me at least. He was to be a brother of the Night's Watch, a protector, and I would be gods knows where wishing he were there to protect me and me alone.

I stared helplessly at The Wall as it drifted farther into the distance and my heart ached. My step-father was mumbling to my sister, Laraine. "…perfect place for the lad, learn him some discipline, else he kill himself first…heh…" Disgust in him clouded my thoughts and vision with anger. Yet what could I do? Hot, scalding tears gathered under my eyes and slid down my cheeks; so hot like burning stars falling from above in the formidable cold.

Laraine, to this, said nothing. She simply nodded her head in compliance. I hated her. She was only my half-sister, a different father from me, Jack, and my other sister, Margaret. She was also much older, twenty-two or so. It was disgusting, really. My step-father was keeping _her. _

Margaret pulled on my hand as we traversed the rough road on our way to Winterfell. She pulled me towards her and held me close under her shawl. I consented to her affection and rested my head on her shoulder, she touched my touched my forehead with her soft hands and said nothing. Margaret was nearly twice my age, just on the cusp of fourteen years. Margaret was beautiful, clever in her own way, but not terribly gifted in reading or numbers like I was. But she knew people, and how to deal with them, how to talk to them, and for that I envied her. She stroked my hair in a comforting, rhythmic motion and we drifted off to sleep despite the jostling of the wagon and heavy thoughts on our minds.


	2. Chapter 2

Several hours later we arrived at the edge of Winterfell. A thin layer of snow had covered Margaret and I as we lay asleep, huddled together in the back of the wagon. We slowed down, bouncing about on the uneven road, and finally came to a stop.

"Alright, out ya go. Margaret, go fetch us some bread and wine for the road." Our step-father, Yorin, spat out as he rested his heavy arm on Laraine's shoulders. She put down her eyes and tilted her head to the side like the submissive cow she was. I scowled just at the sight of her.

Margaret nodded in acknowledgement of her task and righted herself up. She dusted the snow off her long, auburn hair, rubbed her face to waken herself, and hopped off the wagon. She gave me a little quirk of a smile before she made her way to the front of the wagon to get a few coins from Yorin.

"And nothing stale like last time!" He barked in her face as he reluctantly dropped some coins into her open palm in contempt. He turned his head in dismissal of her and looked back at Laraine as she remained unmoving under his arm. He sniffed, then tilted his head in my direction and glared at me with his bloodshot eye.

"Tch, and what do you think you're lookin at?"

"Nothing!" My first reaction was to defend myself, though I had done nothing wrong. Yorin had that effect on people, and I was painfully aware that I was no exception. I stood up on the back of the wagon, looking this way and that, twirling a loose thread from my dirty tunic around and around between my fingers. And all the while Yorin was looking at me, appraising my worth. Or lack of it.

"Heh!" He grunted, low in his throat like an animal. He turned his attention back to Laraine; looked at her with eyes full of lust and self-satisfaction. He didn't take his filthy eyes off her when he addressed me and said, "Go off now! Find your sister, or something!"

So I did. I hopped off and ran towards the heart of town. I didn't want to know what Yorin was about to do to Laraine; they both sickened me. I just wanted to find Margaret—maybe we could run away, hide, stay here or go somewhere else. Just the two of us! My mind ran wild with the possibilities and, sadly, with the enthusiasm of a naïve child longing for freedom. What I wanted most, to salvage what I could of my shattered life, would never happen. Even if Margaret and I ran away from Yorin and evaded being sold off to shady places, what would we do to live? Who would take in two strays? _Girls_ no less. We were even less useful—in the eyes of society at least.

Margaret couldn't have been too far ahead of me, but she was nowhere in sight. The rocky, uneven road we began on quickly turned into a labyrinth of alleys and side streets with the thick, grey stone walls of buildings lining every inch. The low rumble of so many voices filled my ears and I followed it. Soon I caught the smell of fresh blood from animals just gone to slaughter, roasting meats, and delightfully sweet baking pastries and breads. It was still early morning—these smells could only be from the market with its shops and bustling servants and householders running errands and the children running amok.

I ducked down an alley and kept my head low as two nasty old women leered at me from under their straggly black and white hair. A few fat, dirty pigeons flapped their wings hard to lift their bloated bodies off the ground as I approached them. I turned a corner, following my senses, but saw only more stone walls and dirty streets; not exactly the open market full of people I was hoping for.

I started to get nervous as I kept turning corners and only finding more walls, more stone, and more unsavory characters. I was overwhelmed and panicked—afraid of being trapped in these streets forever. There seemed no way out, I had no idea which way I had come from or how to get back. What if I died here? Who would find me? Would anyone care? Would my body just rot in a gutter forever? I needed to escape, get back onto a main street, somehow, no matter what. I started to run. My feet bound recklessly across slippery rocks and my hands braced walls as I turned sharp corners. In a straightaway I started to breath heavier and then, in a blink of an eye, I was airborne. My foot had caught the edge of a ditch and I was sent sprawling, flat on my face. I lay still for a moment, feeling nothing, thinking nothing. And then the pain began. It was deep and aching and spread from my chest to the tips of my fingers and toes.

I tried to move, bit by bit. I could scarcely breath—no! I couldn't breathe! I gasped for the cold, thin air like I had just submerged from the sea, breathless. I reached for the wall to right myself as I sucked in air hard and sharply. At first I grabbed nothing, but then my fingers caught hold of something rough and supple. It felt oily and dirty and as I clung to it I brought my eyes upward to see I had grabbed hold of one of those terrifying old women.

"Are you _lost_, little girl?" The woman's eyes were wide as she stared into mine and clenched my shoulders in her wrinkly hands.

All the oxygen I had so been coveting was lost to me as I let all I had out in a deafening scream. I tore my body from her hold and ran blind through those maddening streets.

"Theon, give that back!" Jon yelled as he chase the older boy through the narrow streets of Winterfell.

"Not a chance, Snow. Finder's keeper's!" Theon replied laughingly as he navigated effortless—dodging ruts and puddles without a second thought.

"It isn't finding if you steal it from my room!" Jon shot back in anger, tinged with helplessness.

Theon jumped onto a crate, launched himself across a small gap, and landed gracefully onto the top of a wooden stall. Then, quick as a spider, he clung to the side of a building with his fingers, dug in the toes of his boots to every crevice he could find, and shimmied up to the roof. Jon Snow, narrowed his eyes in anger, but knew better than to follow.

As Theon skittered his way across the rooftop, Jon followed him on the parallel street below.

"_Your_ room? That may as well be a _guest _room, Snow. You can't be there forever!" Theon snickered as he jogged along, looking down at Jon's sullen face.

"Shove it, Greyjoy!" Jon mustered up. He scrambled to pick up a few stones and chucked them at Theon above. Jon let himself show a bit of a grin as a stone pelted Theon right in the temple.

"Ow! Shit Jon, no need to be so rude!" Theon stopped to touch the slight cut on his forehead. He looked at his fingers, red with fresh blood, and then down at Jon on the street below.

"Fine," he snarled. "You want this piece of rubbish back then you can go get it yourself!" He took the small disk of wood in one hand and flung it across the streets. It soared through the air a great distance before it was out of sight.

Jon looked helplessly into the distance. At the height Theon had thrown that thing, and how far it had gone, it would take him hours to search all the streets and alleys in the area.

"Hey! There you two are! Where did you run off to?" Robb said as he jaunted up behind Jon and acknowledged his friend Theon up on the roof.

"Me and Jon were just playing a bit of a game of tag. I won, of course." Theon replied

Robb looked knowingly at Theon, then turned to see the brooding face of his half-brother.

"What was it this time, Jon?" Robb said as he clapped his brother on the shoulder.

"My mother's etching. The one in wood." Jon replied, eyes still searching the streets.

"Ah, well then, " Robb said as he looked from Jon to Theon, "looks like we'll be on a bit of a treasure hunt for the rest of the morning, now won't we." He shook Jon by the shoulders, trying to lighten his spirits, as Theon jogged back across the roof to make his way back down to street level. It didn't seem to work this time, however, and Robb knew Jon was deeply upset.

Robb put his arm around Jon as he turned to see Theon walking back up the street. "How bout we make this hunt a little more interesting, eh?"

"What've you got in mind?" Theon's eyes sparkled with interest. He was always willing to prove himself, especially if there was something to win.

"How about….whoever finds Jon's etching first gets…this!" Robb said as he pulled a shining, silver coin from his pocket and flipped it up into the air. He caught it in his palm again without even looking.

"You're on!" Theon replied, excitedly. Robb grinned in response and then looked back at Jon.

"Come on Jon, how bout it?"

"Yea, come on Jon, I was just fooling around with ya, no hard feelings."

"…okay." Jon slowly replied as a smile began to quirk at the edge of his lips. Then his eyes became hard and determined. "Go!" He shouted and took off down the narrow street.

"You cheat!" Robb yelled after him as he and Theon chased after. All smiles and forgiveness; the boys could never stay mad at one another for long.

Jon had run just about 400 meters before he let himself look back to see where his brother and Theon were. Even though he was the youngest of the three he would beat them this time! He wasn't nearly as tall as the other two but he was almost as fast. With his headstart he was sure to be victorious! Jon smiled at the thought and was just about to hurl a taunting insult behind him. Instead of seeing determined faces behind him, however, he saw only worried expressions.

"Snow, watch out!" Theon yelled as Robb simultaneously shot out a, "Stop!"

But before Jon could manage to comprehend their words he had already collided with…something. He was on the wet ground in a pile of pain and limbs as Robb and Theon hustled up behind him.

"Ugh…" Jon groaned as dull pain ached throughout him. Robb extended an arm and helped him to his feet. "Thanks." He grumbled, still slightly dazed.

"Hey!" Theon called to them as he hunched over what Jon had crashed into. The three boys huddled over a child, a girl. Her clothes were disheveled, her hair was a dark mess covering half her face, and her arms and legs were covered in nicks and scrapes.

Theon brushed the girl's hair off her face and lightly patted her cheek with his palm.

"Hey," he said softly, "are you okay?"

The girl moved slightly, her face scrunched up in pain, and she tentatively blinked open her eyes. Three pairs of curious eyes stared down at her. Robb moved behind her and helped her into a sitting position.

"We're so sorry about that, we didn't mean for anyone to get hurt." Robb said, always the one to take some responsibility and apologize first.

"No, it was just my fault," Jon said, as he stared at the ground in penance. "I should've been paying attention."

The girl looked at the three boys surrounding her, confused more than anything.

"Um, it's okay, really," She said in a hoarse voice, she coughed a bit to regain her clearness of speech. "I'm glad, actually. I'm lost, you see."

"Lost? Are you not from here?" Robb asked, surprised that he would meet such a young girl who didn't know the streets of Winterfell. They all knew them.

"I'm from east of here. From the countryside." She replied, as Robb and Theon helped her to her feet.

"Well, let us take you where you need to go. I'm Robb by the way, Robb Stark." He extended his hand for her to shake, acting all nobility and well over his 11 years. "This is my brother, Jon," He said as he gestured to the sullen looking boy standing silently off to the side. "And this is our friend, Theon." Theon gave her a smile and a nod of his head.

"Thank you," She said, and then added: "My name is Paxton. I need to find my sister, she went to go buy food."

"Perfect. We were headed the way towards market already, we'll take you there." Robb replied, all politesse.

"Robb…" Jon piped in quietly.

"No worries, Jon. We hadn't forgotten. We'll look for it on the way." Robb said, only somewhat quelling Jon's apprehensions.

"What are you looking for?" Pax asked, hoping to repay these strangers' kindness by helping them look.

"An etching," Theon said. "It's on a little disk of wood—has a tree or words or something on it. I don't know, tell her Jon."

"It has a tree on one side, twisting upwards. And on the other some words. The engraved bits are burned, so they're all black." Jon described quietly and as vaguely as possible.

"Oh," Pax said, digging into a deep pocket. "You mean this?" In her small hand she held out the wooden disk. To her surprise Robb started to laughing and Theon let out a frustrated groan. Pax handed the etching back to Jon, who thanked her kindly, before he too started to smile after a sly look over at Robb.

"Sorry Theon, but I guess she's won!" Robb said laughingly. He too dug down into a deep pocket and pulled out a shining, silver coin. He flipped it towards Pax. "This is for you, little lady."

She caught the coin, surprised, with two hands. She glanced down at it resting in between her palms, her reflection blurry but staring back.

"What's this?" She asked.

"You've won, you've beat me little girl!" Theon exclaimed, jokingly, but still with a twinge of disappointment that the chase was off. Pax turned to look up at the older boy with the mischievous blue eyes and returned his impish look with one of her one.

"Hm, then perhaps if you find my sister, I'll split this with you." She said, holding the coin between two fingers and holding it up for Theon to see.

A/N: Robb and Jon are 11. Pax is 7 (so would be Arya). Sansa is 9. Theon is 12. I'm not quite sure if those are 100% accurate age gaps. But just go with it haha.


End file.
